Is Your Father Black ?

By Joseph Baraba

At the age of seven Joey loses his father,his mother is young and is left with five small chidren. Two years later his mother meets a man and falls in love. Joey could never understand why people would give strange looks to him and his step-father until he finds out he's black. This is the struggle and heartaches of a family in the 1950's Brooklyn, New York living as a bi-racial family.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Joseph Baraba
• Release date: Sep 24, 2009
• ISBN: 9781465974976

Joseph Baraba

Author Joseph Frank Baraba was born in Brooklyn, New York. He has been writing for the past thirty years. His next two books to be published are: " Clara Lyaten - The Chelsea Murders and " Visions Of Freedom"

Book preview

Is Your Father

Black?

By

Joseph Frank Baraba

PublishAmerica

Baltimore

© 2005 by Joseph Frank Baraba.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored

in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means

without the prior written permission of the publishers, except by a

reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in

a newspaper, magazine or journal.

First printing

The names used in this book are fictitious. Any similarity with any

person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

ISBN: 1-4137-5556-9

PUBLISHED BY PUBLISHAMERICA, LLLP

www.publishamerica.com

Baltimore

Printed in the United States of America

Foreword

This is the story of a thirty-four-year journey of a family’s sorrow,

pain and tragedy into a world of black and white interracial marriage

and how it effected their children’s lives.

Dedicated to:

Marie Baraba 1926-1990

Douglas Gerard 1918-1996

Gary Baraba 1955- 1986

Cookie Gerard 1958- 2003

I still miss you, the joy, sorrow and the tears are still in my heart.

The following people bring joy and light into my heart.

Lisa Baraba, Andre, Miss Dusty, Lydia Baraba, Wayne Baraba,

Dean Baraba, Maria Baraba, Kay Larson, Mulli, Sam, Kim Marie

Padilla, Suki, Wayne Baraba, Jr., Ginger, Toy-Toy, Gi Gi, Ampa,

Edna Paul And Susan Wayne.

Chapter 1

The Early Years

Earlier in the day, my mother Marie came home from the hospital

where my father Frank lay dying from bronchial pneumonia. My

mother was of medium height, fair complexion and medium-brown

hair. She was very thin, and her eyes were like a chestnut brown. At

times she could be very loving, at other times she seemed indifferent

and cold. As a small child I couldn’t figure her out. Maybe it was her

German background or the fact she lost her father at the age of

twelve. Then she lost her mother a year later at the age of thirteen.

I never asked questions, because if I did I was told, "The past is

dead. Why do you want to know?" I never, ever asked about the

past.

Later in the day, my mother received a phone call from the

hospital. My father had just died at the age of fifty-seven. At the age

of twenty-nine, my mother became a widow with five small children,

ages one years old to seven years old. She became hysterical, crying

and yelling. " I don’t know what I’m going to do! Your father is dead.

What’s going to happen to us? Where am I going to go with five small

children? Who will help us? I may have to put you children in a

home!"

7

JOSEPH FRANK BARABA

Upon hearing my mother saying this, I became frightened. I

wondered what would happen to us. Late that night I got up and

looked out the window. It was a clear dark night. The sky was a dark

ink blue, the moon was full and bright. Looking up at the moon I

could see figures of people moving around and I wondered if people

really lived up there. Then my mind came back to reality, and I

started to pray to God in a hushed tone, "Please, God, don’t let it be

true, that my dad is dead. Please let it be a dream. I love my dad,

please, please let him be alive." Tears started streaming down my

face, past my lips, I could taste the saltiness. I just lay there with my

arms folded and my face leaning on the window sill. With my eyes

closed I could picture my dad, he was five feet nine inches tall. He

had dark brown hair and his complexion was olive. His eye were a

medium to light brown. He was always taking me someplace; I was

his first born. I remember when I was six years old and he had a big

birthday party for me. I’ll never forget the cake—it was huge,

rectangular in shape. On top it had cowboys and a stagecoach, and

seven candles, with the extra for good luck. I never dreamed he

would never see my seventh birthday, but he died in May and my

birthday was in August.

Finally I got up and went back to bed to seek the only refuge I

had and loved dearly, Rusty, my cat. Quietly I called his name. "

Rusty, Rusty, come here." Out of the corner of the room he leaped

onto my bed and quietly I held him in my arms under the covers. I

sobbed into his furry neck and he purred into my ear until the

blackness of sleep overcame me.

The days passed very slowly. I never did get to see my father

again. My mother never took us to his funeral, she thought we were

too young to understand. In reality, my whole world fell apart. I

remember my father taking me on his rounds, he was a super of a

large building in Brooklyn. How I remember him taking me through

those long corridors in the basement. One time he found a large rag

8

IS YOUR FATHER BLACK?

doll, dressed in a very fancy dress. On her feet were a pair of high

heels, shiny black. He gave the doll to my sister Maggie, she loved

dolls.

One day the landlord came to visit us, and he told my mother we

had to move and make way for a new super. So we moved to a small

apartment in the basement. It had four rooms and not many windows

to the street, which was very cramped for six people. The five of us

slept in one bed in the first bedroom, and my mother took the second

one for herself. The livingroom and the kitchen were both small.

We were a family of five children: Joey, age seven; Maggie, age

six; Alfred, age five; Bill, age four; and John, the baby, twelve

months old. John and I were like my grandmother, we both had fair

skin and were towheaded. The only difference was that I had green

eyes like my grandmother and John had brown eyes. My sister

Maggie and my brothers Alfred and Bill looked like my father’s side

of the family with their brown hair, brown eyes and olive complexion.

One day the new super was cleaning the basement and came

across Rusty. He tried to pet him, and Rusty turned around and bit

him on the back of his hand. My mother heard all the commotion and

came running. " I’m sorry, Mr. Braintree, it’ll never happen again. He

doesn’t mean any harm. I’ll make sure he stays inside."

Mr. Braintree’s face turned beet red. His face was contorted.

"You’re sorry! You’re sorry! That cat is the one who’s going to be

sorry! I’m calling the ASPCA!"

On top of that bad news, my mother found an apartment in the

projects. The area was called Brownsville. Our new apartment

would be at 928 Blake Avenue. My mother gathered us around. She

had something important to tell us. "We’ll be moving at the end of the

week. But we have to give up Rusty, they don’t allow pets in the

projects." I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. We had to give up

Rusty! I cried and pleaded with my mother, but there was nothing I

could do. I was only a little boy living in an adult world. Again I was

9

JOSEPH FRANK BARABA

about to lose someone I loved very dearly, my beloved Rusty.

The day we were going to move was the day the ASPCA showed

up to take Rusty away. All five of us stood in the doorway crying and

screaming as the man took away our beloved Rusty. I would never

see him again and this broke my heart. How could adults be so cruel

to a small beautiful animal? He was such a beautiful gold tiger-striped

cat, he had bright almond eyes and one look would melt your heart.

The apartment at 928 Blake Avenue had five rooms, two bedrooms,

a living room, kitchen and dining room. There were three buildings

on the block in a half circle. Our six-storied building was the tallest.

The other two had four stories each.

We lived on the first floor. Next door to us lived the Burns family.

They had two daughters, Gloria, who was eighteen, and her sister

Jean, fourteen. My mother was always known as Mrs. Brault and

her chicks, because wherever she went, we went with her. No ifs

ands or buts about it. That was her rule. We didn’t stay home by

ourselves.

One day a strange lady came to our apartment. She was from

Social Services. My mother had put in for a telephone, because she

had five small children. You had to go through a lot of red tape in

those days, they were very strict. "Mrs. Brault, where did you get

that coffee cake from?" My mother told her a friend brought it over

as a gift. Evidently they checked everything to make sure you were

feeding your kids right and they were being taken care of properly.

Once a month my mother would take all five of us, plus her shopping

cart, to pick up her monthly allotment of food. We had to go around

the corner in the back of the buildings where they had a playground

and a large laundry room. They would set up the food on large long

tables in the laundry room. We received five pounds of cheese, a

one-pound slab of butter, two large cans of powdered milk, five

pounds of sugar, powdered eggs and a large can of peanut butter

The other kids in our area were always playing on our stoop.

10

IS YOUR FATHER BLACK?

There were Billy, Linda, Tyrone, Skip and a few other kids. We used

to play a game called "Hot Peas and Butter Come and Get Your

Mother." Someone would hide the belt and everyone had to hide.

The person who was it had to count to one hundred and find

everyone. The first person to find the belt had to find the others. If

you were found and didn’t get to the stoop and touch home base, you

were hit across the ass.

One day there was a mob scene outside our building. There were

police and emergency trucks parked all over the street. Men dressed

as emergency rescue and police were running in and out of our

building. Being curious, I followed them into the main lobby. They

were dragging all kinds of equipment into the elevator. Going back

outside I could see that the crowd had grown even larger.

One of the crewmen yelled through a bull horn, "Can you get her